The Demigod Diaries (The Heroes of Olympus)(17)

Confused? Welcome to my world.

Anyway, I figured things would go badly if these two went nuclear, so I risked stepping between them. “Annabeth, tell you what. This sounds important. Let me hear him out, and I’ll meet you back at the picnic blanket, okay?”

I gave her a smile that I hoped conveyed something like: Hey, you know I’m on your side. Gods are such jerks! But what can you do?

Probably my expression actually conveyed: It’s not my fault! Please do not kill me!

Before she could protest or cause me bodily harm, I grabbed Hermes’s arm. “Let’s step into your office.”

Hermes and I sat in the back of the delivery truck on a couple of boxes labeled TOXIC SERPENTS. THIS END UP. Maybe that wasn’t the best place to sit, but it was better than some of his other deliveries, which were labeled EXPLOSIVES, DO NOT SIT ON, and DRAKON EGGS, DO NOT STORE NEAR EXPLOSIVES.

“So what happened?” I asked him.

Hermes slumped on his delivery boxes. He stared at his empty hands. “I only left them alone for a minute.”

“Them…” I said. “Oh, George and Martha?”

Hermes nodded dejectedly.

George and Martha were the two snakes that wrapped around his caduceus—his staff of power. You’ve probably seen pictures of the caduceus at hospitals, since it’s often used as a symbol for doctors. (Annabeth would argue and say that whole thing is a misconception. It’s supposed to be the staff of Asclepius the medicine god, blah, blah, blah. But whatever.)

I was kind of fond of George and Martha. I got the feeling Hermes was too, even though he was constantly arguing with them.

“I made a stupid mistake,” he muttered. “I was late with a delivery. I stopped at Rockefeller Center and was delivering a box of doormats to Janus—”

“Janus,” I said. “The two-faced guy, god of doorways.”

“Yes, yes. He works there. Network television.”

“Say what?” The last time I’d met Janus he’d been in a deadly magical labyrinth, and the experience hadn’t been pleasant.

Hermes rolled his eyes. “Surely you’ve seen network TV lately. It’s clear they don’t know whether they’re coming or going. That’s because Janus is in charge of programming. He loves ordering new shows and canceling them after two episodes. God of beginnings and endings, after all. Anyway, I was bringing him some magic doormats, and I was double-parked—”

“You have to worry about double-parking?”

“Will you let me tell the story?”

“Sorry.”

“So I left my caduceus on the dashboard and ran inside with the box. Then I realized I needed to have Janus sign for the delivery, so I ran back to the truck—”

“And the caduceus was gone.”

Hermes nodded. “If that ugly brute has harmed my snakes, I swear by the Styx—”

“Hold on. You know who took the staff?”

Hermes snorted. “Of course. I checked the security cameras in the area. I talked with the wind nymphs. The thief was clearly Cacus.”

“Cacus.” I’d had years of practice looking dumb when people threw out Greek names I didn’t know. It’s a skill of mine. Annabeth keeps telling me to read a book of Greek myths, but I don’t see the need. It’s easier just to have folks explain stuff.

“Good old Cacus,” I said. “I should probably know who that is—”

“Oh, he’s a giant,” Hermes said dismissively. “A small giant, not one of the big ones.”

“A small giant.”

“Yes. Maybe ten feet tall.”

“Tiny, then,” I agreed.

“He’s a well-known thief. Stole Apollo’s cattle once.”

“I thought you stole Apollo’s cattle.”

“Well, yes. But I did it first, and with much more style. At any rate, Cacus is always stealing things from the gods. Very annoying. He used to hide out in a cave on Capitoline Hill, where Rome was founded. Nowadays, he’s in Manhattan. Underground somewhere, I’m sure.”

I took a deep breath. I saw where this was going. “Now you’re going to explain to me why you, a superpowerful god, can’t just go get your staff back yourself, and why you need me, a sixteen-year-old kid, to do it for you.”

Hermes tilted his head. “Percy, that almost sounded like sarcasm. You know very well the gods can’t go around busting heads and ripping up mortal cities looking for our lost items. If we did that, New York would be destroyed every time Aphrodite lost her hairbrush, and believe me, that happens a lot. We need heroes for that sort of errand.”

“Uh-huh. And if you went looking for the staff yourself, it might be a little embarrassing.”

Hermes pursed his lips. “All right. Yes. The other gods would certainly take notice. Me, the god of thieves, being stolen from. And my caduceus, no less, symbol of my power! I’d be ridiculed for centuries. The idea is too horrible. I need this resolved quickly and quietly before I become the laughingstock of Olympus.”

“So…you want us to find this giant, get back your caduceus, and return it to you. Quietly.”

Hermes smiled. “What a fine offer! Thank you. And I’ll need it before five o’clock this evening so I can finish my deliveries. The caduceus serves as my signature pad, my GPS, my phone, my parking permit, my iPod Shuffle—really, I can’t do a thing without it.”